


Conflict Resolution

by oddsbodkins



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Boys Inc - Freeform, except theyre like adopted so idk if that counts but who cares, im tired and sad and found family is just so good, lowercase pogchamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddsbodkins/pseuds/oddsbodkins
Summary: in times of great angst, we all need some found family fluff. so SBI fans, here you go.Wilbur and Techno, being the dramatic older brothers that they are, screw up the culmination of Tommy's character arc in their roleplaying group - and so Dadza is forced to intervene, before they ruin yet another family dinner night with their arguing.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 27
Kudos: 335





	1. Chapter 1

“Dad, Tommy’s trying to kill Techno again,” Wilbur called, sound carrying from the front door through the open kitchen door. His voice was raspy; he’d probably been performing at the tavern in town again. Phil would have to ask how it went.

After he dealt with this, that is.

He sighed and went to peer out the window. “Operative word being ‘trying’, of course,” Wilbur added dryly as he pulled off his boots.

“Of course,” Phil replied, dry as well, but smiling nonetheless. He reached for a towel to dry off his hands; he’d been in the middle of peeling potatoes for tonight’s dinner of potato soup. “Is it serious enough that I need to go intervene, or are you just letting me know?”

“Eh,” Will shrugged, pausing to consider before putting his second boot away. “Some adult supervision probably couldn’t go wrong. I’m not worried about Techno, but Tommy might hurt himself in the attempt.”

“That is how this usually goes, yeah.” Phil sighed again. “Mind the kitchen while I’m gone, will you? Just keep an eye on the stove - I’ve set some water to boil.”

“Sure, sure, after I put my stuff away.” With that Wilbur walked down the hallway, out of sight, and a moment later Phil heard the heavy stomping and creaking of his middle son going upstairs. He set his towel back on the counter and went outside.

True to Wilbur’s word, Techno and Tommy _were_ fighting - a bit off to the side, just out of view of the kitchen window. Tommy was yelling something, brandishing the sword that Phil had gotten him for his last birthday, and he had blood smeared on his teeth. Probably bit his tongue or something, as the idiots had no mouth guards to speak of. Techno looked wholly unruffled, though he _had_ taken off his robe and draped it over a nearby fence, which was as serious as he really tended to get, especially when it came to Tommy.

“-aitor! You betrayed us!” Phil finally heard. “How could you just turn your back on us like that?!”

“Tommy, I _told_ you I was anti-government to begin with - “

“Oh, that’s such a shit excuse,” Tommy sneered. “You knew we were planning on setting up a new government from the start.”

“No, _you_ were plannin’ on settin’ up a new government, _Wilbur_ was plannin' on blowin' it all up!”

“I didn’t think he’d actually go through with it!”

“Well he only said he would like _eighteen times_.”

“He made Tubbo president! Who just makes somebody else president and then blows up the whole country! That doesn’t make sense!”

“Yeah, well, Wil’s crazy! Of course it doesn’t make sense!”

“Yeah but you’re not, and you turned on us! So fucking fight me!”

Techno folded his arms, which was as good as rolling his eyes when you couldn’t see under the mask. “I already fought you earlier and you lost twice. You’re tired and your mouth’s bleedin’, I’m not fightin' you again.”

“I’m sorry, you two _what_?” Phil chimed in, since they hadn’t seen him yet. Tommy’s eyes went wide and he straightened, moving his sword behind him as if that would somehow conceal it, and swiping at his bloody lips with the back of his other hand. Techno turned to see Phil but seemed otherwise unaffected.

“Nothin’.” He lied with an easy smile. Phil snorted.

“Phil, Techno beat me up,” Tommy whined, sheathing his sword and walking so that he was standing just behind Phil’s shoulder, grabbing his sleeve and doing his level best to look innocent and pleading. Techno scoffed.

“You tripped and bit the inside of your mouth! Trying to pin that on me,” he said, shaking his head at the nerve. He picked up his robe with another harrumph and slung it over his shoulder, making his way inside.

“Did you really trip?” Phil asked. He tried not to laugh - Tommy was sensitive about these things. Tommy dropped his sleeve and crossed his own arms, spluttering.

“I would ne - I’ve never tripped in my life, I’ll have you know! I was, uh, set up! That rock wasn’t there before, I’ll tell you what.”

“Uh huh,” Phil said, trying to stifle another laugh.

“It wasn’t,” Tommy pouted.

“Of course it wasn’t. Let’s go get your mouth looked at, hm?”

“It’s fine.” Tommy said, still frowning. Phil rolled his eyes and put a hand on his back, gently pushing him towards the house. Tommy huffed and went along reluctantly.

True to his word, Wilbur was sitting at the kitchen table, writing in a notebook while the pot of water burbled quietly on the stove. He looked up as they entered and smiled at Phil, which morphed into a smirk as he look at Tommy.

“I see that you’re three for oh today,” he said.

“Oh shut up,” Tommy sneered in return, collapsing onto the stool next to him with a huff.

“Alright, that’s enough. Wil, can you finish the potatoes and get out the cutting board? At this rate we won’t have dinner until dark. Tommy, stay put.” Phil went and rummaged through their medical supplies, finally producing a slightly dusty regeneration potion.

“I’m telling you, Phil, it’s fine. It’ll heal up by itself.”

Wilbur glanced over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, don’t you think that’s a bit of a waste of a potion? He’ll just go and injure something else tomorrow.”

Tommy stuck his tongue out at him. Wilbur stuck his own out in response. Phil sighed.

“I’ve been needing to brew some new potions anyways, as I’m concerned about the efficacy of these. They’re getting rather old. Plus, I only need a bit.” He pulled out a cotton swab and dipped it in the potion.

“Open your mouth, please.” Tommy huffed again and looked away, but opened his mouth grudgingly. Phil took his chin and angled his head to get better lighting.

Techno walked in, having exchanged his dusty and moderately bloodied white tunic for a clean one. Tommy immediately tried to pull away and say something.

“Tommy - “ Phil started, gripping his chin tighter and pulling him back. Techno walked behind his little brother and flicked him on the back of his head.

“Behave,” was all he said, joining Wilbur at the counter and getting to work chopping the pile of washed vegetables.

It really was amazing what his youngest son could convey with just his eyebrows, Phil thought as he dabbed at Tommy’s wound with regeneration potion. They were wriggling in Techno’s direction pretty furiously.

Finally he was satisfied with his work and let Tommy go, whereupon the boy immediately laid into his brothers.

“You two think you’re so cool, with your sword and your guitar and your _beanie_ and your _crown,_ well let me tell you, you’re not gonna be top of the heap anymore once I - “

“Allllright!” Phil interrupted with a clap and exasperated laugh. “Tommy, go get some milk and butter from the barn. Something happened today, yeah? Let me talk with your brothers for a moment, and then I’ll get your perspective on things.”

“But, Phil - “ Tommy started to protest, but Phil just gave him a push towards the door. His youngest stormed out the room grumbling and slammed the door shut behind him.

There was a beat of silence.

“I wouldn’t say anything happened today, really,” Wilbur said mildly.

“It’s that role-play group you kids have on, yeah?” Phil said, peering over Techno’s shoulder to check on the vegetable’s progress. His son’s knife work was perfect as ever - which was fortunate, as Phil hated doing food prep work. Wilbur was just finishing up with the potatoes, so Phil traded him a towel for the bowl and dumped them in the water to boil.

“Yeah. There was a war today,” Techno grunted. Wilbur shot him a betrayed look, which he quickly schooled into neutrality when Phil raised his eyebrows.

“ _That_ certainly sounds like something.”

“Ah, but was it though?” Wil said, voice going high-pitched in the way that it only did when he was trying to avoid getting in trouble.

“What happened during this war of yours?” Phil asked, turning down the heat on the stove to a simmer and leaning against the counter so that he could get a better look at Wil, who laughed nervously.

“Oh, not much, really. You know, just some lighthearted messing around.”

“We killed Schlatt, took back L’Manberg, then Wil made Tubbo president and blew everything up, and then _I_ spawned two Withers and blew everything up some more. Now Tommy’s mad but says he’s not ‘cause he knows it’s all just s’posed to be role-playin’.”

“Techno!” Wilbur hissed, trying to elbow his brother in the side. Techno leaned away and shoved at him with his free hand.

“Not while I have a knife, you goon.”

“I told you I was going to handle it - “

“Yeah, but this way I don’t have to deal with it for the next week.” Techno rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure we would’ve gotten it resolved more quickly than that…” Wilbur said, trailing away weakly like he didn’t even believe his own words. Techno raised an eyebrow at him, then reached and tugged down the collar of his shirt. There was a thin red line running down his collarbone, dangerously close to his heart.

“Oh,” was all Wilbur could manage.

“Was that Tommy?” Phil asked, stunned.

Techno let go of his collar and straightened his shirt, shrugging. “Yeah, but he doesn’t know about it. Happened when he tripped - his swing went long and I wasn’t expecting it, so it got past my guard. It’s my own fault for bein’ stupid and not using armor, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to ‘em. You know how he gets when he feels guilty - makes me uncomfortable.”

“Right,” Phil said noncommittally, still processing the thought of Tommy actually managing to injure Techno.

Techno was right, though - Tommy, for all that he was normally so loud and over the top, got weirdly quiet and reticent whenever he realized that he’d accidentally gone too far with one of his 'bits'. Last time it’d happened he’d really, genuinely pissed Wilbur off, more so than any of their fights before, and the two had ended up not speaking for weeks before Phil finally intervened. Wilbur had felt that, since the whole thing wasn’t his fault to begin with, it was wholly unfair to make him “fix Tommy’s shit like he always did.” Tommy, for his part, had been guilty and confused and hurt, and though he was usually quite charismatic and outgoing, he wasn’t really that great at more subtle social interaction. So he had just avoided Wilbur, leaving the room whenever Wilbur entered and going quiet when leaving wasn’t an option. This, of course, had just made Wilbur angrier.

  
  
So Techno wasn’t wrong in that life would be easier for all of them if Tommy didn’t go through the whole process of feeling guilty for injuring Techno, but Phil still didn’t know if just straight-up lying to the kid was the best course of action. He hummed in thought.

“I don’t have to cajole _you_ into using the regeneration potion, right?” He asked pointedly, after a moment had passed. Techno laughed, but obediently went to the table, where the medical supplies were still sitting out.

“Wil-“

He turned to his middle son next, who preempted him with a wave, and an airy “Yes, yes, potatoes, I’ve got it handled. You can go and see Tommy - hope you handle him better than we did.”

Phil only hummed in response before heading out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My last post on here barely got a response and that made me _really_ realize how much I am affected by feedback on my work - like, wow! Glad I'm not famous, I guess.
> 
> In any case, it made me Sad, so I took a few days for myself and decided to write something that _wasn't_ sad, lmao. Second chapter of this to follow in the next few days, and that should be it for this fic unless I feel super compelled to write more of this concept. But really, I don't want any more WIPs rn. :p


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that time in PogTopia where Tommy trapped himself in a hole and they all came and laughed at him and then Phil got in the call and Tommy was like "Phiiiiiiil :(" ?
> 
> Yeah.
> 
> Alright, so, three chapters, 'cause you *gotta* have the actual dinner. So much time spent building up to this soup, I can't just cut off before they eat it. Idk when next chap will be though, am v busy rn. Hopefully soon!
> 
> Also! Everybody stream "Your New Boyfriend" by Wilbur Soot - and check out Philza's reaction to it if you are missing SBI like I am :)

Tommy had actually listened to him - miracle above all miracles - and was aggressively churning butter out in the barn with a fresh bucket of milk on the ground next to him. He was mumbling to himself, as well - Phil caught the tail-end as he approached.

“Stupid brothers with their stupid dramatic plans ruining _my_ moment, _my_ day, killing Tubbo and blowing everything up and just making a goddamn mess of things, and did anybody think to ask me beforehand? _No_ , of course they didn’t, have to be stupid and secretive so they can be better than everybody, but ‘Oh Tommy’” - here his voice went high-pitched and reedy in mocking imitation, “‘Oh Tommy, it’s fine, it’s just a game, why’re you so mad? Calm down Tommy, you’re being overdramatic!’ Yeah, like _I’m_ the dramatic one!” His voice had been getting progressively louder - with that last line he threw up his hands explosively, then cut off for a moment, before letting them drop. “Like _I’m_ the fucking _dramatic_ one,” he repeated to himself, this time quiet and bitter. He went back to churning.

Feeling that this was perhaps something meant to be private, and that he should not respond to, Phil quietly left and doubled back, this time being purposefully noisily and whistling to himself, knocking on the barn door to announce himself.

This second attempt really wasn’t much better.

He could barely make out Tommy furtively swiping at his eyes as he entered, to his surprise - Tommy tended to cry easily, but he hadn’t really thought things were _that_ bad.

“Hey, kid,” Phil said quietly, snaring their creaky, busted spare stool out from the corner of the barn.

“‘Ey, Phil. Suppose you caught that,” Tommy said, voice thick as he rubbed at his eyes again.

“Mm. We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Tommy waved a hand and cleared his throat, sniffing loudly. “It’s, uh, just been a long day, is all.”

“Sounds like it,” Phil agreed sympathetically. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

Tommy snorted. “What is there to say?” He opened up the churn, and there was a thick glob of butter coagulated around the center, so he set to work scraping it into the clean butter mold that Phil had brought along. “I’m sure Techno and Wilbur told you plenty already,” he muttered darkly, movements overly rough.

“What they told me isn’t relevant; I’m here to hear your side of things,” Phil said placatingly, tilting the stool back so that he could lean against the barn wall. He got the feeling this wouldn’t be a short conversation.

Tommy didn’t say anything for a while, so Phil just settled in to wait him out. Finally, he burst, “Everything has to be about them, doesn’t it?!”

“What do you mean by that?” Phil asked, but Tommy was already talking again.

“They’re always making fun of me by calling me the ‘main character’ or ‘protagonist’ or whatever, but they’ve just made me the straight man to play off of so that they can have their cool villain arcs, or whatever.” Tommy was pouting again, but there was a current of real hurt beneath the facade.

“…why do you think they’re making fun of you when they call you those things?” Phil asked slowly, trying to be careful with his wording.

“Well it’s not like they actually believe it,” Tommy said, shifting, mouth still pulled in that hurt little slant.

“Believe… what?”

“Well of course they don’t think I’m the main character. I’m just their little brother. I have to fight for even a crumb of attention around here, why on earth would _I_ be the main character of… well, L’Manberg, I guess. How _could_ I be the main character, with the two of them around, as well as Schlatt, and Dream, and George and Sapnap and Fundy and BadboyHalo and Nihachu and - “

“I get it,” Phil laughed.

Tommy paused, put out at being cut off, but finished eventually: “How could I be the main character with all these other people in the room?”

This was really the core of his youngest son, Phil thought in the silence that followed. A deep, fragile insecurity masked by layers and layers of loud, rambunctious extroversion, a seeming lack of social fear coupled with a well of infinite energy. With every year that passed Tommy grew more complex, his pretensions slightly more sophisticated, but this hadn’t really changed.

“How would you describe yourself, then? Or, I guess, how would you describe the role your character plays?” Phil asked.

“Well I - “ Tommy cut off and frowned, pained look fading into genuine confusion. “I dunno. Techno, he, um. He called me Theseus today, said I was like - was like, well, you know Theseus, right? He’s from, uh, mythology?”

“I do,” Phil said, snorting a bit. ‘From mythology’ indeed.

“Yeah, Techno called me that earlier. He said it was ‘cause I want to save everybody, and they’re all gonna turn on me eventually.”

“Theseus was a main character,” Phil said. “That doesn’t sound like a joke to me.”

“No, it’s not,” Tommy let out a huff and scrubbed a hand through his hair, slumping on his stool. “But it’s still… if I was a main character, I’d be, I dunno, cool like them, right? All confident and shit. Phil and Techno, once they make their mind up to do something, they just… do it. And nobody criticizes them. With me, it feels like everything I choose to do gets critiqued and made fun of. I get second-guessed a lot. I don’t like that.”

“That sounds a tad biased,” Phil said cautiously, “You know I don’t let Wil and Techno just get away with whatever.”

“Oh sure, not _you._ I just mean, like, everybody else. In the group. You know.” Tommy waved a hand dismissively, like that was supposed to be an adequate explanation - which, yeah, Phil could fill in the blanks.

“Alright. So are you mad that you get second-guessed and they don’t, or are you mad that you don’t feel as important as them?”

Tommy stopped, mouth opening and closing as he tried to work through an answer, finally settling on, “Aren’t those the same thing?”

“Not necessarily. I would say that getting second-guessed is just a byproduct of your age - I know,” he said as Tommy rolled his eyes, “I know, it just is. As for feeling important, though - Tommy, I feel like you’re really underestimating your own importance, here.”

Tommy rolled his eyes with a sarcastic kind of half-smile. “Really? _I’m_ underestimating my own importance? You _have_ talked to me before, haven’t you Phil? I’m the last person to undersell myself.”

“Mm, alright, but I’m talking more about your importance to other people. Like - you know that Wilbur and Techno care about you, right? And I mean really, truly care about you,“ he hurried to add as Tommy drew back, looking vaguely disquieted. “Not just brotherly obligation.”

Tommy’s mouth worked a little longer - he really did flounder in the face of genuine emotion, for all that he handled sarcasm and bluster so easily - and Phil thought that maybe he’d gotten through, before something seemed to cross Tommy’s mind and his face folded back into its earlier irritation.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered.

Phil sighed. He tried not to, as it wasn’t really fair, but it slipped out.

“Why don’t you believe that?”

“I mean, Phil, you’ve seen how they treat me.” Tommy rolled his eyes again. “Or maybe you’re not there for all of it, but like, half the time Wil acts like he’s one step away from strangling me. And Techno just makes fun of me _constantly_.”

“That’s just what siblings do, though,” Phil said. “If you were in a tough spot, do you think you could trust Techno and Wil to get you out of it?”

Tommy looked confused. “Well, usually I’d just wait for _you_ to help me out, but… I guess? If it was really dire. But that’s not the same as caring about me. Like, _Tubbo_ cares about me. _You_ care about me. The two of them… view me like a pet. I think. An unwanted pet that they also can’t get rid of. It’s not really great for my confidence,” he huffed.

Phil snorted. “I think your confidence will manage.”

“Phil,” Tommy complained. “We’re being nice now.”

“Right, right,” Phil laughed. “In any case,” he continued, sobering, “I know that your brothers can be… less than sweet, sometimes, but how about we try something, hm? Give them a week and really pay attention to what they do - and try to be objective about it! Next week I’ll sit you down and we can talk about it. If you really think they don’t care, I’ll have a talk with them and get them to fix their behavior. How about that?”

Tommy took a minute to consider it, but finally relented. “Fine,” he said, ducking his head and running a hand through his hair again.

Phil smiled and stood, stretching, then on impulse ruffled Tommy’s hair as well. The boy startled, swatting at Phil hand, which ultimately caused him to overbalance. The stool teetered dangerously. He flailed, eyes wide, and fell over before Phil could grab him.

Not that Phil was about to, as he was practically doubled over laughing.

“Phil,” Tommy whined from the floor.

“I’m - hahahaha - yeah, yeah, I’ve got you,” he helped Tommy to his feet, still laughing. Tommy brushed himself off with fragile, offended pride, then realizing that Phil wasn’t going to stop laughing any time soon, sniffed and marched out the barn. Phil eventually grabbed the milk and butter and trailed after.

He’d thought Tommy had left him behind, but instead he was hovering outside the front door, looking unsure. When he saw Phil watching, he quickly affected a more confident expression. “I was just waiting to get the door for you,” he explained, though Phil hadn’t said anything.

Phil shrugged, movement slightly hampered by his burden, and smiled. “Well then - thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cause he's in your bed and im in your twitch chat DUDUDUDUDUDUUDUDUDU


	3. Chapter 3

Wilbur and Techno had been talking as they walked in, but they cut off before Phil could make out their words over the creaking of the door and the clomping of Tommy’s boots - and given what they were probably talking about, he found himself grateful for their discretion. Peace was already about to be fragile, no matter what conclusion the two of them had come to while he and Tommy had been away.

But Tommy just sidled past the door, disappearing upstairs, much calmer than before. Phil joined his other sons in the kitchen and finally dropped into a seat at the kitchen table, wincing as his joints protested. He wasn’t old, per se, but the stools in the barn didn’t really offer great back support - and it had been a long day.

“I take it that things went well, then?” Techno asked after a stretched-out pause. Phil was moderately surprised that Wilbur hadn’t been the one to ask - but when he looked over at his middle son, he was studiously attending to the potatoes on the stove and appeared to be trying very hard not to seem like he was listening.

Which, right. Dinner.

With another sigh and a groan that wanted to bubble up, but was brutally suppressed, he started to get to his feet. Techno quickly put a hand on his shoulder, though, and gently held him in place.

“We’ve got dinner, Dad. Don’t worry about it.”

“You know the recipe?” Phil asked, trying to not sound dubious.

“Wilbur dug up your recipe book and we’re working off’a there. I know that we’re not cooking geniuses, Phil, but you can trust us with this much.” Techno’s voice shifted from solemn and earnest to a much more natural sardonic humor, so Phil acquiesced and relaxed. They might end up with coals for dinner, tonight, but his boys needed to be able to cook for themselves in any case, and if he didn’t have to bully them into learning, all the better.

He let them be.

“To answer your question, I think our conversation went quite well. I don’t want to give anything personal away, but I hope that you all will get along a little better from here on out.” As he talked, Techno picked up the milk and butter and carried them over to the stove. The butter was for sautéing the vegetables that made up the soup base - mainly leek, with some leftover onion and garlic thrown in to pad it out. The milk would go in with the broth; it really should be cream, but that had gone towards making the butter, and Phil had forgotten to tell Tommy to reserve some. And with all the tension in the air, he really didn’t want to raise a fuss.

Fortunately his other sons hadn’t seemed to notice the difference in the recipe book.

“I mean, it’s not as if Tommy didn’t play his own role as a source of tension,” Wilbur said quietly. The pot before him burbled, and stray bits of water hissed as they made contact with the stove.

“Sure,” Phil said. “I’m not here for pointing fingers - I would prefer it if all of my sons could live under the same roof without committing acts of violence every few days. So I guess I’m just not interested in who started it, so much as which of you are going to try and perpetuate it.”

Another long stretch of silence. Eventually Techno said quietly, “Wilbur, I think the potatoes have boiled enough.” Wilbur startled slightly, clearly having been lost in thought, and quickly takes the pot off the heat. Techno stepped in to drain the excess water into the sink, being a little more suited to the strain and the heat. Wilbur conceded without complaint, and rather leaned back against the sink so that he could consider Philza a little better.

“You won’t just take Tommy’s side if he pitches a fit?” He asked, typically animated expression dangerously neutral. “Every time he causes a fuss you just want us all to shut up quickly, and that means you take his side so he stops bitching. I’m getting tired of it.”

“Oh! I only thought you were tired of it when you stopped speaking to Tommy for a month. Good to know that wasn’t the case.” Phil raised his eyebrows at Wilbur, who held out a moment before cracking, averting his eyes and reddening slightly.

“Yes, well, I suppose you’ve got me there.” He coughed. “Uh, Techno, need any help with… um, all of that?”

Techno snorted, still holding the pot carefully so that he could get the last bit of water to drain out. “I’m not rescuin’ you from that one, bud.”

“Make sure the butter doesn’t burn,” Phil directed lazily, and some of the tension eased from Wilbur’s shoulders as he shuffled over to poke at the vegetables with the same wooden spoon he’d used for the potatoes. There was another clomping sound from the stairs, this time heralding Tommy’s return.

Like Techno, he’d changed into a clean set of clothes, and it looked like he’d washed up a bit as well. “Shirt’s torn,” he said in his typical, abrupt kind of way. Phil nodded.

“You put it in with the rest of the laundry?”

“Nah, off to the side - with Techno’s shirt. Speaking of which - Techno, when did you get that big gash on the front? Couldn’t help but notice it in the laundry room. Usually nothing manages to touch you, so I was just wondering.” He was talking a little too quickly, Phil thought.

Techno tensed as they all turned to look at him.

“I - ah.”

“Ah?” Tommy said, toeing the line between teasing and abrasive.

Techno rolled his eyes. “It was from when you tripped.”

“When _I_ tripped? How does my tripping translate to - oh.” There was a heavy beat as Tommy’s brain caught up to his mouth.

“It’s alright. My shirt took the worst of it.” Techno snorted. He’d finally given the potatoes over to Wilbur’s care, so absent of something to do with his hands, he plucked the knife off the cutting board and began washing it. This also gave him an excuse to break eye contact.

The kitchen was silent for a long while. Finally, Tommy said, “I’m, uh, sorry?”

Wilbur scoffed loudly before Techno could get a word in, and Tommy puffed up in anticipation of a fight. There would’ve been one, too - but Phil put a hand on Tommy’s elbow, and the scowl that had been directed at Wilbur was swiftly transferred to him, as Techno meaningfully cleared his throat in Wilbur’s direction, who subsided with a scowl that mirrored Tommy’s.

“I would just like to make it through this dinner, please.” Phil said.

“I would like to as well,” Techno agreed with a dry smile. To Tommy, he said, “I appreciate the apology, but it’s unnecessary. If I was scared of fightin’, I wouldn’t do it so much. You should probably keep this in mind the next time you go wavin’ a sword in my direction, though.”

“I will,” Tommy said, unusually serious.

Then he smiled.

“However,” he said, drawing the word out. Trepidation grew on Techno’s face, alongside a grin that he had to turn to hide. “Since I drew first blood, doesn’t mean that I beat you?”

Techno scoffed, waving his hand as if he could so easily swat away the idea. “Ok, no no no no. You smashed your nose on that rock, I definitely got first blood there.”

“Ah, but I must’ve cut you as I was falling, which technically means I was first - “

“There was barely any blood! You _nicked_ me, that barely counts - “

“Oh, and the rock was a weapon you had lying in wait all along? You don’t get to take credit for my tripping - “

“Maybe it was! You have no way of knowing if I planted that rock or not - as Sun Tzu said, knowing the playing field is good, but _manipulatin_ ’ it is even better, so maybe I _did_ \- “

“Oh shut up, with your Sun Tzu this, potato king that, you’re fucking bluffing - “

“How’s that soup going, Wil?” Phil said, standing up so that he wouldn’t be in the middle of their squabbling and wandering over to his middle son. Wil was quiet and reserved, which was abnormal, but not unexpected. It was a condition that unfortunately seized Wilbur frequently, especially around Tommy - one called pouting.

“It’s fine,” he said sullenly, stirring the soup even though it didn’t really need to be stirred anymore, only to simmer.

“You add the seasonings yet?”

“I will in a bit,” he sighed. “Need to go fish them all out.”

“I’ve got it,” Phil said, reaching around him to pull out their spice drawer. As he shuffled through the spices, looking for the right ones, he said, “Are you really so upset? I can talk with you privately as well, if you’d like for me to. You know I’m always here for you.”

“It’s alright.” Wil said stirring. After a moment he paused, and let the spoon go, turning to look at Phil. “Actually, I, um.”

“Yeah?” Phil prompted, after Wilbur didn’t continue.

“I think I might like to spend some time with you tonight, just the two of us? I have some new songs that I’ve been working on, and it’s, uh, it’s just been a while since we’ve had any quality time.”

“Of course,” Phil said, smiling and trying to not look too relieved at such a normal, wholesome request. “I’d love to listen to you play, Wil. It _has_ been a while - since I got to spend time with any of you, really.”

“Yeah. I’ve missed you. We’ve been really wrapped up in this role-play, and it - well, I guess it got to me more than I realized.”

“It’s alright. It’s been nice to have some quiet around here,” Phil said, stretching and grimacing exaggeratedly. Wil laughed quietly and jabbed an elbow in his side, so Phil shied away, also laughing. He finally handed Wil the proper spices, who set about adding them and finishing up the soup, while Techno (who saw and knew everything all the time, of course) got out the dishes and bullied Tommy into setting the table.

They finally settled down to dinner that night, after all the doing that it took to get there, and yet as Phil looked around at his little family laughing and chattering away, he couldn’t imagine a world where he wouldn’t consider it worth the effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanna say that my soup recipe here is like, so scuffed, for something that for whatever reason became the main plot point of the story. i was just playing fast and loose with like, proper potato soup assemblage. forgive me.
> 
> but fuck dude, writing this made me want leek and potato soup so bad LOL why do i do this to myself. if you haven't had it i think it's like, a french thing, but it's hella easy to made and its so GOOD idk why america has our stinky loaded potato soup instead. dumb
> 
> anyways thanks for reading. writing this was like a form of spiritual soup - leek and potato soup for the soul. wholesome and fulfilling. hope it does something similar for y'all :) :thumbs_up_emoji:
> 
> i will now return to writing more difficult things with, hopefully, artistic value. :( :thumbs_down_emoji:


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